


Swingers Club

by SushiOwl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Open Relationships, POV Lydia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rimming, Silly, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, everybody's legal and having fun, just a lot of sex, there's really no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Peter go to The Jungle to find someone pretty to take home and fuck senseless. They set their sights on Jackson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swingers Club

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by [WhatTheHale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale).
> 
> This came out of fucking nowhere, okay? I was working on a different project, and my brain was like "I wonder what kind of relationship Lydia and Peter would have?" And it _exploded_.
> 
> In other news, this is my 100th submission to this site! Yay! *confetti explodes out of a cannon*

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Lydia asked, painting her toenails a baby pink with her feet braced against Peter's thigh. They were on the couch, feeling lazy after a beautiful dinner of filet mignon and pomme souffles that Peter made.

"Do you?" Peter replied, his eyes on the ebook he was reading on his tablet.

"Almost always," she said, wiggling her toes in the foam spreaders.

Peter chuckled, sliding his eyes toward her. "Then we will go out."

Smiling, Lydia set down the pink polish and picked up the clear top coat. "Fifteen minutes and my feet will be shoe ready."

Peter turned his head and looked down at said feet. "You should definitely wear those black Louis Vuitton open toe heels that you got last week."

Lydia tilted her head, a smile crossing her lips before she made a chirp of agreement.

Once her toes were dry, Lydia dragged Peter upstairs so they could both get dressed. She picked out a short black number for herself, one with a collar that opened up in a diamond shape over her cleavage. Her shoes showed off her pink toenails perfectly.

Because treating Peter like a dress up doll was her favorite activity, she picked out his clothes for him. At first she had him in a pair of black jeans with a v-neck and a pink belt, but upon reconsideration and after she'd made him spin around about ten times, she pulled the shirt and belt off. She put a pale pink button down shirt on him then slid a black suit jacket up his arms.

She grinned at the finished product. "Perfect," she said with a nod before she took his hand and out the door they went, ending up in Lydia's shiny black Mercedes.

The Jungle was having a Ladies and Lads night, which meant there were plenty of beautiful people to gawk at and choose from. They set up base by the bar. Lydia ordered a white Russian for herself and a rum and lime Coke for Peter as her partner in passion surveyed the floor of sweating, grinding bodies.

"Beauty at two o'clock," he said, after Lydia handed him his drink. "The brunet in the purple tank top."

Lydia looked over, sipping her drink. Well, he was cute, but she wasn't in the mood. "He's too skinny," she decided, stirring her drink with the short straw.

"I thought you liked skinny," Peter said, his eye roll evident in his tone.

“I did, but skinny is so last season,” Lydia replied easily, before she started to inspect her nails. They were as shiny and perfect as usual. She started to scan the crowd, before she spotted a sweet looking boy leaning against a wall and checking his phone. He obviously wasn't actually a _boy_ , seeing as you had to be at least twenty-one to get into the club, but he had a baby face. "What about him?" she suggested, nodding toward him.

Peter followed her gaze, before he shook his head, taking a sip of his rum and Coke. "Been there, done him," he said, putting his elbow on the bar and leaning on it.

"Oh?" Lydia asked. "And how was he?"

"Not as experienced as I initially thought. He didn't have the hang of shielding his teeth." He turned his hips, as if remembering the scrape of teeth on his dick. "But he was very enthusiastic and took instruction well, so A for effort."

Lydia hummed, nodding. They had a rule: they didn't fuck a random more than once. 

“Oh, what about that goddess on Earth over there?” Peter said, pointing as casually as he could.

It was pretty easy to find who he meant. There was a woman dancing with about three of her lady friends, long black hair done in a tight braid down her back, which was bare because of the cut of her shimmering blue dress. Her ass was like a bouncing heart.

Lydia was more than down for this until the woman turned toward them, and Lydia saw her face. “Ah, I've had her,” she said with a devious smile, which she turned on Peter. “It was, what, seven months ago when you were in Paris to show off the fall collection?”

Peter clicked his tongue. “I have a feeling I missed out.”

“You did,” Lydia said, offering no details because she knew it irritated her partner. She was pretty sure her smiled spoke volumes about the multiple orgasms she had experienced.

Sliding his eyes back toward the dancing woman, Peter lifted a brow. “Perhaps I will just have to look for her next time you go out of town.”

“I think she operates on a Ladies Only policy,” Lydia said, patting his arm when his face transformed into a pout. “Sorry, sweetie.” She was pretty sure Peter would have stuck his tongue out at her if he hadn't had a drink to distract himself with.

They went back and forth, pointing out various people and quickly realizing they had had more sex than they had thought.

“Oh, him over there,” Peter said, nodding toward a half naked guy dancing on the catwalk above the main floor. “Tell me you haven't had him already.”

Lydia looked up, before she snorted. “Peter, we had him together.” She had to laugh at the look of annoyed confusion on Peter's face. “Do you remember anything after dinner on your last birthday?”

Peter flicked his eyes down and to the side, trying to drum up some memories. “No,” he finally said.

“Exactly,” she told him, reaching up to give his face a pet. “You were blasted out of your mind.”

“Well,” Peter huffed out, sliding closer and putting his arm around her. “You'll have to tell me all about it later.” He looked around. “Once we find someone that we haven't already fucked into a mattress. Honestly, have we had everyone here? How many people are there in Beacon Hills?”

“15,346 last census,” Lydia replied all too happily, and Peter sent her a look that said she should really stop answering his rhetorical questions. She just grinned at him. “Shall I calculate how many of that fifteen thousand would be of the age range we look for?”

“Please don't,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course I'll have to take past populations into account as we have been on the prowl for over five years.”

“I haven't had enough alcohol for this,” he said into the rim of his glass before he took a sip.

“It's rather simple math. You just have to add all of the past fractions together with this year's, though obviously this year's number wouldn't be as big given the year isn't over so divide it by twelve then add—“

“Oh my God, I get it, you solved N vs NP and you have three Fields Medals.” Peter pressed the cool glass of his drink against his forehead.

Lydia let out a high giggle, before she set her hand on his shoulder and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Someday you'll learn not to ask.”

They went quiet again, looking out among the crowd and making their way slowly through two more drinks, not enough to be impaired but enough to feel warm and pleased. The more time went on, the closer they got. As Lydia continued to watch the floor, Peter turned and nuzzled her cheek, and she giggled, blowing bubbles in her drink in the process. She tipped her head as he moved her long strawberry hair over her shoulder then dragged his lips against her neck, right above the collar of her dress.

She let out a little sigh, her eyelids fluttering down until her eyes were nearly closed. Peter knew just how to kiss her neck to turn her pliant. She turned toward him, lifting her hand to hook her fingers on the front of his pants. She was about to suggest that they just leave and have fun on their own, before she spotted someone in the crowd that made her eyes pop open.

“Oh, look at that,” she said, straightening up and nodding in the direction of her target when Peter gave a questioning little 'hm?' “Over by the DJ.” 

The DJ, whom everyone knew was named Danny because he was the only good DJ in Beacon Hills, was leaning over his soundboard and chatting with a guy with dark blond hair. Lydia could see his profile, and she liked the look of his straight nose and bright smile. He was also bare from the waist up, his white shirt hanging from his back pocket and doing little to hide his bubble butt. His shoulder to waist ratio was ridiculous. 

Lydia wanted to lick him. She turned her eyes up to Peter and found he did too. “What's the plan of attack?”

Peter licked his lips as they watched their quarry get a kiss on the cheek from the DJ and jump into the throng of dancing bodies with a grin on his face. “One of us should go talk to him.”

They looked at each other, before they lifted their fists and shook them three times. Peter ended up with rock, which Lydia covered with her hand since she had chosen paper. She pressed her lips fiercely against his, drawing a moan from his throat, before she pulled away and started out into the crowd of grinding and humping.

As Lydia stepped onto the dance floor, she kept her eyes on the hot blond, maneuvering through the twisting bodies with slides and rolls of her hips. Two or three people turned toward her as she glided past, trying to engage her in a dance, but she was fixated and wouldn't let anything distract her. Finally she reached him, a couple parting for her to pass so she could press into his space and put a hand on his chest, which was damp with sweat.

“Hi, I'm Lydia,” she said right in his ear, before she smiled at him. His eyes were blown wide, and even in the flashing pink and green lights overhead, she could see they were a beautiful sea green. And God, his bone structure. She wanted to fuck him senseless then offer him the opportunity to walk in their next fashion show.

“Jackson,” he replied, setting his hands on her hips as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

“Why so surprised, Jackson?” she asked, starting to move against him, and he quickly followed suit. She just smiled wider as he tried to subtly look at her cleavage and failed. That was okay because she had her chest smooshed against his.

“I saw you when I walked in,” Jackson said, one of his hands going to the small of her back, fingertips digging in just a little, which she liked. “II would have totally approached you, but you were with someone.”

“Ah,” Lydia said, glancing over at Peter before returning her gaze to Jackson's marvelous cheekbones.

“Are you two just friends or something?”

“Something,” Lydia replied with a nod, and Jackson looked a bit suspicious. “In the interest of full disclosure, he and I are in a sort of open relationship. We like to go out and find sexy people to bring back home with us.”

Jackson stopped moving, blinking. “Uh.”

Lydia slid her fingers up into Jackson's hair. “No pressure, sweetheart,” she told him, before she pressed her lips against his, light so he'd be able to escape. But Jackson pressed back, opening his mouth against hers, and soon their tongue were sliding together, wet, warm and eager. Jackson tasted like beer and Red Bull, and Lydia sucked the flavor right off his tongue. When they parted, her lips felt a bit tingly. “How about I introduce you, we buy you a drink and you can get to know us? Then you can make a decision.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jackson breathed out against her cheek, nodding.

Lydia nodded, pleased, before she took his hand and led him through the sea of sweaty flesh to the bar. She sent a smile to Peter, and he returned it. She pulled Jackson up against her side when they reached him. “Jackson, this is Peter. Peter, this is Jackson." She watched them shake hands, Peter's grip sure and Jackson's hesitant.

"Charmed," Peter said with a smile, and Lydia watched him run his fingers along Jackson's wrist as he let go, and Jackson gained color in his cheeks. "What are you having?" Peter asked nodding toward the bar. "Beer?" At Jackson's nod, he smiled wider. "Any label you prefer?"

"Uh, Dos Equis," Jackson replied, and Peter nodded before turning around and signaling for the barkeep. 

Lydia watched as he stuck his ass out with a jut of his hips, and she knew it was purposeful, because he didn't do anything without meaning to. She slid her eyes over to Jackson and found him staring. She had a feeling that Jackson was going to agree to be the filling in their sexy sandwich.

"So what do you do?" Peter asked once they all had drinks. They were leaning against the bar with Jackson in the middle, and he was picking at the label of his beer.

"I'm in college right now," Jackson replied, looking at Peter.

"Oh, what school?" Peter asked as he slid his free arm along the bar behind Jackson's back. Lydia laid her arm over his a moment later.

"Stanford," Jackson replied, standing up a little taller. "I have a full ride for lacrosse and swimming." He smiled, and there was cockiness to it. It was attractive on his handsome face.

"That's impressive," Lydia said, smiling at Jackson. "Stanford is a great school."

That turned Jackson's smile sweet, before he looked between them. "What about you guys?" he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

"Ah, well," Lydia started, looking over at Peter. "We do a number of things."

"Lydia is the youngest Millennium Prize winner ever," Peter said, smiling over at her in the way he always did when he bragged about her. "She also got her Masters in both physics and economics at twenty-one.”

When Jackson turned his head to look at her, she tried to appear modest. "It's not quite as impressive as it sounds. I had no social life in high school because I was taking college courses too. I never had a boyfriend or girlfriend." She reached over and took Peter hand, rubbing their thumbs together. "I'm making up for lost time." She wanted to kiss him, but she'd have to lean across Jackson to do that. "Anyway, enough about me. Peter had a sports scholarship after high school too."

Jackson looked at Peter, and he gave a brilliant smile. "Basketball. I was rather good until I tore my ACL." He tilted his head a little when Jackson winced in sympathy. "I ended up going into accounting and finance after that."

"I've never seen returns quite like the ones on the investments Peter makes," Lydia practically purred, because she was more than pleased to have someone so clever in her life. She only hated him sometimes when her beat her at chess.

"After we started living together," Peter went on, smiling at Lydia like she was something to be cherished. "We decided to have a little fun and launch our own fashion line."

"We didn't actually expect it to gain any momentum. It was just something to do when we got bored of staring at numbers all day," Lydia added. 

"What brand? Have I heard of it?" Jackson asked before taking a deep drink.

Lydia took a moment to admire the bobbing of his Adam's apple before replying. "Red Wolf," she said, before she grinned at the way Jackson's eyes popped wide.

"Wait, you're Lydia _Martin_ and Peter _Hale?_ " Jackson asked in a breathy way.

"That's us," she said with a nod, trying not to take to much pleasure in his awe.

"In the flesh," Peter added, and by the way he was smiling Lydia could tell he was eating this up.

"I own most, if not all, of your last menswear collection," Jackson admitted, looking between them again. "And my dad did legal work for you guys a couple years ago."

Peter straightened up from where he was leaning against the bar. "Anderson, Suarez or Whittemore?" They tended to have a team of all types of attorneys at their disposal at all times.

"Whittemore, David," Jackson said, and Peter let out an 'ahh' of understanding.

"Your father was instrumental in the suit against that hack group of would-be designers that were selling knock offs of our clothes on Etsy," Peter said, giving an indignant sniff. 

Lydia snorted out a laugh, amused that Peter was still bitter, even after they'd sued the pants off of those people. "Anyway, enough about us," she said with a roll of her eyes then looked at Jackson. "Do you want to come with us tonight?"

"Uh," Jackson replied eloquently, before he went back to picking at the beer bottle label, pulling a strip off and balling it between his fingertips. "What exactly does that entail?"

"Nothing you're uncomfortable doing," Peter said, pressing closer to Jackson, who didn't pull away, just tilted his head as Peter put his nose behind his ear. Lydia moved in too, mouthing at Jackson's jaw as Peter started to talk, his voice low and hot. "I definitely want to get my mouth on that cock," he said, and Jackson let out a sound akin to a squeak, but Lydia wasn't going to mention it. "I want you all the way into the back of my throat. Choke me on that dick of yours."

Jackson let out a sharp gasp, body giving a little jerk, and Lydia dropped her eyes to find Peter's hand massaging him through his jeans. She smiled and lifted her hand to lightly drag her nails down Jackson's spine, delighting in the way he arched like a cat. "Leave some of him for me," she said to Peter, though the words were spoken into Jackson's skin.

"I'm sure there's plenty of this hard body to go around," Peter purred, his splitting into a grin as Jackson let out a soft moan when he gripped him harder through his jeans. "Are you comfortable with anal penetration?"

"Y-yeah," Jackson said in a shaky moan, his hips rolling against Peter's hand now.

"Then I can't wait to get my tongue in your ass," Peter went on, causing Jackson to shiver. "I'll open you up, get you nice and wet, then stuff my fingers in your hole and stroke you until you come apart."

Lydia smiled against Jackson's jaw as he _whimpered_. "And we wouldn't stop there. We'd kiss, hold and touch you until you got hard again. Then we'd really get into it."

"I could fuck you," Peter went on, still squeezing and caressing the hard line of Jackson's dick through his pants. "You could fuck me. Either of us could fuck her, or she could fuck the both of us, seeing as she wields a strap-on with purpose."

"I have had plenty of practice," Lydia informed Jackson as he looked at her, and she shot him a brilliant smile of perfect teeth. She touched his face gently. "There are so many things we could do." She couldn't help but shoot Peter a look. "I could calculate the number of positions given a minute."

"Oh God, no," Peter huffed out, and she giggled. "How about instead of doing that, we leave and find out just how many ways we can twist our bodies together?" He gave Jackson a serious look. "If that's what you want."

Lydia was about to open her mouth to say that Jackson wouldn't offend them if he said no, but Jackson blurted out, "I do! I want. I really want."

"Good to hear," Peter said, giving Jackson's dick one last squeeze before he hooked their arms together. "Let's go then."

Lydia claimed Jackson's other arm, and they all walked out together.

\---

Jackson wasn't awed when he stepped into the house, with its grand entryway and half moon staircase, and Lydia wasn't surprised since he had followed them home in a Porsche. But he did blink at the sound of tiny claws against hardwood when a ball of fluff on feet came dashing out of the living room and reared up on his leg.

"This is the reason our floors are scratched," Peter said with a sniff of indignation, as if she didn't sleep in his lap while he was working on his computer or he didn't sneak her bits of lunch meat when he thought Lydia wasn't looking.

"Her name is Prada," Lydia said as Jackson knelt down and got his hand sniffed enthusiastically then lapped at.

"She's cute," Jackson said with a smile as he scratched the dog's back and caused her to thump her foot.

"She's also a distraction." Peter snapped, getting the dog's attention, before he pointed back into the living room. "Go to your crate." Prada let out a huff sound, before she trotted away.

Once they were upstairs and in the master bedroom, Jackson drew in a shaky breath. "Uh, can I use your shower before we, y'know--" He made a vague gesture. "--get to business?"

Lydia shared a silent look with Peter, consisting of raised eyebrows and lip twitches. "May we join you?" Lydia asked, stepping up to Jackson and touching his bare chest. "We can pretend we're conserving water." She swept her thumb lightly over his pink nipple, watching how it hardened and pebbled.

"Yeah, okay," Jackson said, looking between her and Peter while nodding.

Lydia smiled at him, before she kicked off her heels and lost four inches of height. She waited until they had shed their shoes as well, before she led them into their luxury bathroom with its jacuzzi tub that could fit five and walk-in shower with three different shower heads. She turned on Jackson and put her hands against his chest as Peter turned on the water so it could heat up. 

Her fingers went to the front of his jeans, releasing the button and pulling down the fly. Her lips quirked at the sight of neatly trimmed pubes. "Commando?" she asked, pushing down his jeans until they pooled at his feet. "Were you being hopeful or do you just like to let your boys breathe?"

"A little bit of both," Jackson replied, standing proudly and completely unashamed as his dick, after flagging during the car ride, was getting hard again. It was a nice dick too, attractive, clean and cut, which she liked just as much as uncut, like Peter's. 

Lydia turned around, gathering up her long hair on the back of her head. "Undo me, will you?" she asked, waiting as Jackson undid the snap of her collar then drew down the long zipper along her spine and to the end of her tailbone. She dropped her hair and smiled as Jackson pushed her dress down her shoulders and chest, before pressing a chaste kiss to her shoulder. She shimmied out of the rest of her dress before turning around and lifting onto her toes as she wrapped her arms around Jackson's neck. His arms came around her waist, and their lips met for a kiss. 

She didn't let this one be soft and innocent, nipping and flicking the tip of her tongue against his mouth until it opened. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth and teeth, before she baited his tongue into her mouth so she could suck on it hard, earning a groan that vibrated through his chest.

She felt her bra release and smiled against Jackson's lips, feeling Peter's clever fingers pull her bra away. She continued to kiss Jackson as she felt those fingers move lower, alighting over her hips then coming together in front. A set of them pulled the front of her lacy black panties out as the others delved inside, a finger dipping into her folds and immediately finding the spot that caused her to sigh into Jackson's mouth.

Jackson drew back, and Lydia watched his eyes assess her form, roaming over her lightly freckled chest, down her stomach and to the bulge of Peter's hand working in her underwear. He licked his lips, and Lydia preened inwardly. When Jackson lifted a hand then paused, hovering in the air, she grabbed both his hands and pressed them firmly against her chest, encouraging him to squeeze. She gasped as he leaned forward, taking a pink nipple between his teeth and laving it with his tongue. Then she moaned, rolling her hips as two of Peter's fingers rubbed at either side of her clit.

Peter's lips found her ear. "You're gorgeous." She nearly giggled, her face splitting with a grin. Then he addressed Jackson. "Isn't she?" 

Jackson flicked his tongue across the tip of Lydia's nipple before responding. "Yeah." It was a breathy, whispered thing, and it warmed her inside.

Giggling for real now, Lydia made playful slappy motions at them both, before she pushed her panties down and kicked them away. Then she turned on Peter and got him naked in seconds, poking the head of his dick because it was there and she liked it. After that she ushered both of the men into the shower, which had been running and filling the bathroom with steam for ages now.

Once they were situated with Jackson between the both of them, Lydia tipped her head back under the stream and just closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the hot water beating down on her. It relaxed her immediately, and she could have just let her body hang like a limpet when two strong arms came around her middle and lips trailed over her neck. She reached over and grabbed the first bottle of shampoo her fingers landed on, intent on washing Jackson's hair. She managed to grab her own, so Jackson was going to smell like cherry blossoms for a while. Good for him.

“Close your eyes,” she told him, and he did so without hesitation so she could start lathering up his hair. She dragged her nails lightly along his scalp, earning a pleased hum. She turned her eyes to Peter, watching him squeeze a dollop of body wash right into his palm and work it into a foam. As she stimulated Jackson's roots, Peter's hands slid over his sides and up his front, thumbing his nipples and causing him to twitch with a little gasp.

Lydia directed Jackson head under the middle stream of water, washing the suds from his hair and watch the water and bubbles slid down his face, his high cheekbones, straight nose and full lips. She brushed away the shampoo that got caught on his long, curved eyelashes. She was still admiring his face when he jerked and let out a gasp, opening his eyes. She followed his gaze down and found long fingers curled around Jackson's hard cock, a thumb against the head. She smiled at the noise Jackson made when he was stroked by that soapy hand, before she took him by the shoulders and turned him around.

Jackson doesn't even hesitate, throwing his arms around Peter's neck and taking his lips with his own. Lydia watched Peter smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little as he put his arm around Jackson's middle and continued to use the other to stroke him. Lydia could have rolled her eyes at how smug he looked, and she could only see part of his face. Jackson starts to moan softly, panting open mouthed against Peter's lips before he dropped his forehead on Peter's shoulder. 

Lydia couldn't blame him. She's seen Peter bring stoic mountains of men to keening puddles of goop with just a hand. There was one man, Boyd, who had barely said two words, and he had turned out to be a screamer. (His wife, Erica, had been downright wild and had worn Lydia out.) Jackson was going to be really in for it when Peter started to use his tongue.

Jackson's ass muscles started to twitch as he was apparently resisting the urge to thrust into Peter's hand. It was a nice sight, because Jackson had a great ass. She dragged her nails from the tops of his thighs up over the slopes of his ass cheeks, leaving thin red lines. Jackson let out a bone deep moan, shuddering, before he whined as Peter did something with his hand. 

Dragging her hands back down, Lydia flipped her wrist and reach between Jackson's legs, feeling the burning heat of his inner thighs and perineum, which she stroked with two fingers, smiling as Jackson lifted onto his toes and gasped against Peter's shoulder. She kept up the rubbing, leaning in to nip and drag her teeth over the knobs of his spine, delighting in the way his hips were jerking like they didn't know which sensation to move into.

“Are you close?” Peter murmured into Jackson's ear, silky as melted chocolate, even as he kept his eyes locked on Lydia's. God, his gaze, even after all this time it could make things low in her clench. Jackson let out a noise, nodding his head. “Good.” 

Lydia licked her lips, before she shifted her hand and pressed her thumb against Jackson's hole, rubbing against the wrinkled skin in slow, deep circles, not pushing in but definitely making him feeling it if his long noises were anything to go by. She put her other arm around him, feeling his flexing stomach as he tried to resist. She lifted onto her toes to put her lips against his ear. “Come for us so we can make you come again later.”

Jackson gasped against Peter's shoulder, shoulders drawing up slightly. “Ah fuck!” he cried, his ass twitching and his abs contracting. He lifted onto his toes again, whimpering into Peter's shoulder, and Lydia wished she could see his face. She was sure it was lovely.

As Jackson staggered backwards, Lydia removed her hands and guided him under the middle stream, where he breathed hard as he came down, before looking over at Peter. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

Peter lifted a brow, before he looked down at himself where thick come was sliding down his flat stomach. He gathered some on the tip of his finger and sucked it off, his cheeks hollowing out. He pulled his finger out with a pop and grinned. “Don't be.” Then he casually rinsed the sticky substance off.

Lydia started to wash her hair, which was an involved process, and Peter decided to “help” by coming up behind her and soaping her back and ass. She rolled her eyes, before she grabbed Jackson and got him to work washing her breasts, which he was quite keen to do. She could have purred at the attention, feeling pampered. That was until Peter stuck his fingers in her armpits and she squealed out a laugh while accidentally elbowing him in the solar plexus. 

They managed to convince her not to spend twenty minutes drying her hair. (“We're going to fuck without you!”) It was going to be all kinky and sad when it did dry, but she chased them into the bedroom anyway, laughing as Peter and Jackson did a four legged waddle toward the bed since Jackson was trying to suck Peter's tongue out of his head. She hopped up onto the bed, walking backwards on her knees under she dropped onto her heels.

Peter turned Jackson around and shoved him toward the bed, causing him to stumble and land with his ass in the air and his face in Lydia's lap. He let out a huff of a laugh, a warm thing against her thighs and pubic hair. As she ran her fingers through his damp her, he lifted his head and ran his tongue across his lips. “Can I?”

Lydia bit her lip, nodding. "That sounds like a wonderful idea." She shifted, crawling toward the pillows before she made a mound with them and leaned against them, lifting her knees up and letting her legs fall wide apart. She just grinned as Jackson's eyes went wide. 

As he clambered up onto the bed and moved toward her, Peter went to the other side to access his nightstand. He tossed a strip of condoms onto the sheets and held the lube in his hand as he got onto the bed. After that he just sat back and watched, which Lydia knew was one of his favorite activities.

She didn’t mind though, because Jackson was pressing tender kisses to her inner thigh, feather light and teasing. She could help the shiver that tickled down her spine. He found a mole on her skin and licked it, causing her to snort out a laugh. Finally he made his way to the center and nuzzled the hair on her pubic mound, before he got a good look at it.

“Is that a heart?” he asked, staring right at her vagina in confusion.

Lydia laughed. “Sometimes I get creative with my waxing. I tried to get Peter to do it too.”

“You chased me around the house with hot wax, more like,” Peter added, narrowing his eyes.

Lydia just smiled further. “Someday I’ll get you in your sleep.”

Peter’s drew up his legs and pressed his thighs together, looking like he wasn’t sure if she was joking. Good. Let him be worried.

Jackson leaned in again and flicked his tongue lightly over the flushed and engorged labia minora peeking out through the lips greedily, and she let out a soft sigh, sinking further into the pillows and just watching him work. He wasn’t shy about it, pressing his tongue flat on her folds and dragging it up. Then, he dug the tip of his tongue in, locating her clit in no time and undulating over it.

"Oh," she said softly, curling and stretching her toes out. That felt nice.

Jackson reached forward with one hand, spreading her labia open and getting down to business. He dragged his tongue up one side and down the other, before he his tongue against her clit and rolled it like a wave. All the while he was watching her, his bright eyes just the right amount of smug.

She put her hands in his hair, fisting the strands and tugging him closer as she set her heels against the mattress to tilt her pelvis in a better position for getting eaten out. "You can get cocky when I'm screaming," she told him in a purr, and he huffed against her mound before flicking his tongue in a cross formation over and over. Her insides clenched, and she reached down to drag her nails between his shoulder blades. He shuddered with a broken sound. 

She turned her eyes toward Peter, and he shifted forward, taking hold of Jackson’s hips and pulling them up so he was on his knees. Jackson didn’t seem bothered, shifting forward so he could continue what he was doing, before making a startled sound right into Lydia pubes when Peter stuck his tongue in his ass. Lydia had to chuckle, though it turned quickly into a moan as Jackson doubled his efforts to make up for his faltering. 

After that it was all soft pants and low moans with the occasional wet sound of tongue and lips in a sensitive places. Jackson didn’t seem to be tiring as he went through the alphabet and counted to a hundred on her clit, and damn it felt good. She ran one hand rhythmically through his still damp blond hair, making furrows and peaks, all the while plucking at her nipples with her other hand.

Jackson became even more earnest as he started to squirm slightly, his hips twitching back and forth in jerky motions like he was trying to stop it and couldn’t. His eyes were closed now, brows drawn together in forced concentration. Heat was blooming up Lydia’s spine and cascading over her thighs almost in time with his movements, and she couldn’t help but sink both hands into his hair.

“Just like that,” she told him breathlessly, smiling as Jackson snuffled several times through his nose.

Then Peter moved, pulling back, and the action drew Lydia’s attention. With his face a bit shiny with saliva, he hunted across the sheets until he found what he was looking for. As she let out little breathless ‘ah, ah’s, she watched him ooze lube onto his fingers then press two right into Jackson’s hole without warning. Jackson let out the most interesting of strangled noises against her, tipping his head to the side and panting hot across her folds as Peter moved his fingers in and out of him. She could tell when he spread those clever fingers, because Jackson let out a soft whine. 

“Don’t neglect your duties,” Peter said, sounding just about as smug as one could. He loved rendering people a little helpless, but he loved ordering them around more. He drew back his hand and gave Jackson’s ass a sharp smack, startling a grunt out of him. 

Jackson gave him a little glare over his shoulder, which was a delight to see, really, and Peter just grinned at him, doing something with his hand that made Jackson gasp. He turned and pressed his mouth against Lydia and going at her clit that it was a 9-5 job he loved. 

She moaned loudly, digging her nails into his scalp as all that sensation and heat came rushing back like a force of nature. Pulses of pleasure fanned up her back, hardening her nipples and tightening her stomach muscles. Her thighs began to tremble, and it began, the mounting sharpness in her pelvis that curled her toes and made her vaginal walls clench around nothing. 

“Oh, oh fuck,” she breathed out, before she bit her lip, tearing her eyes away from Jackson’s face to look at Peter. He was watching her like she was the most gorgeous thing on the plant, and he wanted to eat her.

Lydia screamed as she came. It was a thing. Pleasure smashed into her like a storm wave against a levee. Her back snapped into an arch as her legs came together around Jackson’s head, thighs crowding his ears. She let out a low groan as she trembled, aftershocks wracking her body.

As she came down she felt a tapping on her outer thigh and glanced down to see Jackson still pretty much trapped between her legs. His request for attention was rather polite since he probably couldn’t breathe. “Oh, sorry,” she said, spreading her legs and letting him up. “I should have warned you that I turn into a bit of a vice.”

But Jackson was smiling. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, even if his entire face was smeared with her wetness. If it weren’t for the completely smug ‘ha, I made you come’ glint to his eyes, Lydia might have been inclined to call him a sweetheart.

“If you’re quite finished making eyes at each other,” Peter said, grabbing Jackson’s hips and pulling him backward. His dick bobbed as he went, standing tall with a deep red head almost angry with arousal. 

Lydia would have poked it if she weren’t currently in a goo state.

As Peter ripped a condom packet off the strip, Jackson twisted around to watch him sheathe his dick. “Is this still alright?” he asked after putting his lips close to Jackson’s ear, his voice smooth and deep. 

Jackson’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and nodded, making a small noise that was probably a whimper, but no one in the room would mention it. He bit his lip as Peter maneuvered him into position. Lydia dropped her eyes between Jackson’s legs, her eyelids dropping as she saw Peter’s cock disappear the same time Jackson let out a loud sound like it was ripped from his lungs.

Lydia bit her lip as she watched Peter reach under Jackson’s arms, crossing his own arms over his chest and taking hold of his shoulders. His blue eyes are a piercing gaze around Jackson’s neck, staring right at Lydia. She smiled back, and he started to move, pulling Jackson back on his cock as he rotated his hips in slow circles. Jackson’s hands fumbled around for a moment, not sure where to put them, before he hooked his fingers over Peter’s forearms. 

Okay, so maybe watching someone get fucked wasn’t an pleasure exclusive to Peter. Lydia loved watching the way Peter took someone apart and remade them in a way that nothing hurt and everything was good. Jackson’s mouth had fallen open, little pants mixed with groans leaving his mouth. His eyes were barely open, his pupils blown and hazy with pleasure. Lydia dragged her eyes down, watching his abs contract and relax for a moment, the skin shiny with perspiration, before she let her gaze fall to his bobbing dick. It was leaking, pearls of precome welling at the head and sliding down the shaft or dropping to the sheets.

“Hey, Peter,” she purred, spreading her legs again and dropping her hand to her pubic mound, her fingers just circling the top of her lips. Peter turned his predatory blue eyes back to her, not halting the rotations of his hips. “I think you should go faster,” she said, drawing apart her labia with her index and ring fingers so she could rub at her clit with her middle. “He wants it hard.”

“Does he?” Peter said, low and full of dirty intent.

“Wha--?” Jackson tried to say, before the end of the word turned into a shout as Peter started to move his hips fast and hard like a train piston. “O-o-oh fu-u-ck!” he cried, dropping his head back and just surrendering to the blissful, punishing pace. Lydia knew by the barks of noise leaving Jackson’s mouth that Peter was aiming just right. He was _good_ at aiming.

Peter was mouthing at Jackson’s neck and shoulder as he jackhammered up into him, only making soft grunting sounds as compared to the broken and strangled cries pouring from Jackson’s mouth. He looked at Lydia again, and she bit her lip, circling her clit fast with his fingers. His gaze darkened, black overtaking the blue, before he put his lips to Jackson’s ear. 

“You gonna come?” he asked in a voice that was barely more than a cry, and Lydia’s insides did a funny flip and twist at hearing it. Jackson couldn’t reply incoherent words, the only sound from him moans and the slapping of his ass against Peter’s hips. “I know you’re close. You’re going to come untouched, aren’t you?” Jackson let out a long sound like he was dying, and Peter smiled like a wolf before he sank his teeth into the long column of Jackson’s neck.

Jackson let out a shout that broke at the end, his whole body seizing and come flying out of his cock in a high arc that nearly hit Lydia. She felt like applauding, but her hands were occupied,  one on her clit and the other driving two fingers into the warm wetness of her vaginal hole. 

Peter had enough congratulatory ridiculousness for the both of them though. He hummed as Jackson panted in his arms, sagging as if boneless. “I believe that is called a money shot,” he said, and Jackson gave a weak as a kitten laugh. Peter smiled fondly before he kissed the bright red bite mark on Jackson’s neck. It would undoubtedly darken to purple and stay there for days.

“Alright, down you go,” Peter said, shifting to lay Jackson onto the sheets. “Careful of the wet spot. There you go.” He ran his hands over Jackson’s back and thighs, and Jackson oozed into the mattress with a moan.

Lydia removed her fingers with a wet sound, wiping them on the sheet and shifting to pet Jackson’s hair gently. “You did so well,” she told him, and he opened one eye to look up at her. “You’re definitely one of my favorites.”

“Only one of?” Jackson asked, his voice hoarse, before he cracked a grin.

“The night’s still young,” she replied, rolling her eyes in an affectionate way.

Jackson’s grin widened, before he swiveled his eye over to Peter, who was pulling off the condom and dropping it in the bin next to the bed. His cock was still hard, standing proud between his legs. He picked up another condom and rolled it on, before he started digging around in the nightstand.

“You didn’t…?” Jackson said softly, sounding a bit guilty and worried.

Peter just smiled. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said as he shifted to lean against the pillows. “I’m covered.”

Lydia laughed and threw herself into Peter’s lap, grabbing onto his dick and sinking down onto it in one smooth motion that had them making the same sighing moan. She arched, tipping her head back as she started to undulate her hips. She felt fingertips on her neck, featherlight, and they trailed down between her breasts and down her stomach.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in reverie.

She smiled and started to move faster, straightening up and bouncing in his lap, the plunge of his cock inside her forcing little ‘uh, uh’ noises past her lips. She put her hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage to put some real force behind her hips.

Peter had one hand on the the small of her back, and she glanced down to see the other hand between them. Holding a black pocket rocket. He twisted the top right to the highest setting and pushed it under her pubic mound right onto her clit. She screamed again, scratching his chest with her nails. He hissed. He deserved it. Fucker, she adored him.

Peter surged up, capturing her lips as best he could, and she pressed closer to open her mouth against his. It was a lot of tongue and teeth, intermittently interrupted by moans and barks of pleasure.

“Tell me you’re close,” she said to him once she’d lost all concept of time. She dug her hands into his hair, nails making tracks on his scalp. “I need you with me.” God, her whole body felt like the simmer surface of a volcano, the pressure building and building, ready to explode and set everything on fire.

“I am, I am,” Peter gasped, brows pinched in the middle. He pulled her all the closer if possible, his hand trapped between them.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head against his as her ‘ah, ah’s grew in pitch and volume. She felt his arm slide up her back, spanning the whole of it, and she felt there was nothing between them. Her thighs tightened around him, and she tossed her head back with a scream, her whole body filling up with heat and pleasure until it poured out of her. Peter cried out into her neck, and she refused to let him go, couldn’t really if she wanted to. She was fused to him until lightning stopped shooting through her limbs.

When she came down, it was like falling from a cloud. Peter was there to catch her, and she flopped limply against him, mumbling incoherently about something or another. He chuckled into her hair, and she didn’t have the energy to swat at him. She went a bit like a ragdoll when he tenderly laid her down. Her feet hit Jackson’s come spot, so she mumbled and endeavored with great effort to shift her feet and prop them up on Jackson’s butt. When Peter came back from disposing the condoms and whatever else, she pillowed her head on his stomach.

She was not moving for at least an hour.

Silence fell over them, and it was comfortable, warm. Soon everyone’s breathing was soft again as they basked in post-coital triumph. They were fucking fantastic, the three of them, and that was something to be proud of. 

Lydia let herself fall into a drowsy state, and it felt like her body was sinking. She felt hand take hers and opened her eyes, sliding them over to see her Peter’s hand was laying entangled with her own, fingers lacing together. She smiled, giving him a bit of a squeeze. 

“Are you pleased?” Peter asked with a smile in his voice, and she hummed an affirmative. “Good.” He lifted her hand up and kissed her fingers, and she tilted her head to look at him. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles before he addressed Jackson. “The queen isn’t satisfied unless she’s had at least two orgasms.”

Lydia’s smile spread wide. “Damn right.” 

“You guys are kind of awesome, you know that?” Jackson said, sounding almost sleep soft.

“Only kind of?” Lydia replied, because she couldn’t help herself, and she giggled at Jackson’s face. He was so cute.

After a heavy ‘why do I deal with this?’ sigh, he shifted. “How long have you been together?”

“Almost six years,” Peter said as Lydia yawned wide and squeaked at the end.

“How did you meet?” Jackson continued, eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” was Peter’s immediate response. They didn’t get asked that question very often at all.

Lydia tried not to giggle too hard. “Well. Ha, funny story. It was a few days before I was graduating from MIT with my master’s. They were holding a chess tournament, and I decided to join just for fun.” She pulled Peter’s hand to her chest so she could play with his fingers.

“I was the reigning champion of the United States Chess Federation, so I was there defending my title,” Peter added, his other hand coming up to play in Lydia’s hair.

“I took care of half the players, while Peter got the other half,” she said, smiling at the memory.

“We met in the middle.”

“It was a very intense match.” She spread out his hand to trace the lines on his palm.

“Intense is one word for it,” he agreed, flexing his fingers.

“He forced me rethink strategy as I knew it.” It had been frustrating then, but she was glad for it now.

“It took four hours, but I eventually won.” Peter sighed.

Grinning, Lydia remembered how tense the air had been, how everyone had been looking on like it was a fight to the death. “By that time I knew I was going to kill this man or fuck him sideways.”

There was a suffocating smugness in Peter’s voice as he said, “Guess which one happened.” Dick. But he softened again, his voice going sweet. “She’s a better loser than me.”

With a huff, Lydia looked up at his face. “Would you have slept with me if I’d won?”

“No,” Peter said promptly. “I would have slashed your tires.”

Lydia twisted, scooting closer to his face. “Aw, so petty. I love it.”

“Wow,” Jackson muttered, and they looked at him. “You’ve been together so long and you’re not going to get married or anything?”

“Nope,” Lydia said easily, shifting so she could look at Jackson easier. She avoided the wet spot by practically becoming one with Peter.

Peter put his arm over her. “We may care for each other deeply, but we would never work as a married couple. In this arrangement, we’re free to leave at any time for any reason.” It really was as simple as that.

Jackson’s brows furrowed cutely. “Even if one of you falls in love with someone else?”

“Yup,” Lydia chimed in, turning her head and nuzzling Peter’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend. He’d be the first to know if I ever fell for someone and wanted to get married.”

Peter hummed. “To which I would respond, ‘Fantastic! I’ve always wanted to design a wedding dress.’”

Lydia’s laughter was loud and full of snorting, and because Peter and Jackson valued their lives, they did not comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to [WhatTheHale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale).
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](thesushiowl.tumblr.com). :D Sometimes I take prompts.


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